Scorched Fabric
by isabelle analisse
Summary: The story behind the previous generation of characters, centering around the Black sisters and their desires and love interests. Full of betrayal and scheming as they go after want they want in life and grow into who they are in the books.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is the first time that I've done something quite like this so reviews would be much appreciated. This story is set to follow the earlier lives of the previous generation from the books - centering around the Black sisters and their own desires and love interests. Lots of betrayals and scheming along the way before everyone ends up the way they're seen in the books. **

**And of course - I do not claim to have come up with any of the characters, everything Harry Potter is all copyright to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.**

**Enjoy?**

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**Narcissa Black**

The most important thing to understand about our family is that our parents' word is law. They choose our classes, our allegiances, our enemies, our friends… our husbands. They tell us what to do and we listen. And by "they", I mean our father. Our mother is a mere wisp of a woman, perhaps once strong but now broken. She also follows my father laws. None of us has a choice. It is a strict path to walk but it has been ours since the day we were born and we know nothing else. It is the same path of anyone that has the fortune – truly _misfortune_ – to be born into one of the ancient, pureblood families. Envy us all you want from the comfort of your own warm, welcoming families. Wait until jealousy and desire have turned your faces green and then ask yourself: Could you really _be_ us?

No.

You may think that it all appears so splendid, so elegant, but I will tell you this: you only see the superficiality of it all. The only ones who can actually bear it are those that have no choice, that have never know what it's like to taste that tantalizing thing called freedom. And even sometimes, they still can't. They are fissures, cracks in the perfect appearance of the purebloods. They are names long forgotten, only traceable to the scorched fabric of our family tree. They are shunned, they ceased to exist… And yet none of us can ever stop thinking of them. Imagining what it would be like to be them, to be able to escape from the web that ties us all together and strangles us with its tightness. And just in the same way that you should know that you could never _be_ me, I look at them and know that I could never _be_ one of them. I could never be my cousin, Sirius, sorted into Gryffindor with his back turned to the family. I could never be my uncle, showing kindness in the form of financial aid to Sirius – to one of _them_ – at the price of becoming his very own scorch mark.

And me? I sit here and I wait as envy takes over myself, as I think of all those that have broken free from our family, and I know that I could never do the same. And then I look at the flyaway strands of web, those that are beginning to crack, beginning to stray towards what I never will be able to stray towards. I look at my sister, Andromeda, sorted into Ravenclaw. I look at how my parents disregarded this small error, how they praised her intelligence to the world, promising that it was only a sign of how further blessed she was. I look at how they put on a bright front to the world: smiles flashing, glasses clinking. And I remember the whipping she received the first time she came home after she was Sorted.

Anger fuels me by now, anger serving as a catalyst for everything I do. But it is a slow, manipulative anger that takes the time to think, to predict. It is not the same fierce, erratic anger that Bellatrix lashes out with. It is why we are such a good pair. Fire and Ice. Together, we can accomplish anything. Once we were three but no matter what lies our parents preach to the world, we all know that Andromeda is slipping. She has been ostracized by her own family so who are we to rule that she continues to ostracize herself among her own house mates. That she continues to separate herself from those not pure of blood when those that _are_ pure of blood no longer want anything to do with her, no matter how they mask it with smiles that never reach their eyes.

And though I envy her, I know that I could never be her. I know that as much as I too want an out, a way to separate from the suffocating clutches of this family, I would never take one if it was presented to me on a silver platter. Because of Him. Because I love Him and He loves me and he is as much a part of this as I am, only he has no desire to break free. And in lacking that desire, he condemns me to remain in this life for all of mine. Lucius. Only a name but it is a name with the power to make me do anything. Power enough to make me stay. Excuses I feed myself, in any case. I tell myself that I stay because of Lucius. Because I am madly and passionately in love with him.

But even as I tell myself all of this, I can't help but wonder if the truth lies even closer to my core, guarded by even more walls of armour – armour that no girl of merely fifteen years should have to employ.

I am a coward.

* * *

I study my reflection in the mirror, feeling pleased as I admire how I've pinned up my pale blond locks elegantly for the evening. My gaze lowers, sweeping down to take in the heavy emerald gown that was laid out on my bed for me to wear to tonight's celebration. My father's 50th birthday. The house elves have been working themselves into a frenzy for weeks now, scrubbing every last corner of the house, planning out the lavish feast that is to be set out for all the guests. And my mother, for her share of the work, has been hard pressed to find the perfect gowns for my sisters and me. Mine is dark green velvet with lacy cream-colored skirts underneath. It looks like something someone would have worn during the Medieval Ages but the dress code for these types of parties is always rather outdated. The ancient families like to believe that we're still in ancient times.

"Cissa?"

I turn, grimacing at my sister as she saunters into the room. Bella's gown is silver on top of ebony and it looks stunning against her black hair. Stepping in front of me, she leans in closer to the mirror, absentmindedly reaching for some of the products that I haven't yet put away and applying a few extra coats of mascara and some dark lipstick.

"Move over," she urges, and I wiggle to make room for on the chaise. She perches beside me, tilting her head as she studies her reflection for the briefest of seconds before turning her attention to me. "So just how much are you looking forward to this fine celebration?" she inquires sarcastically, her mouth twisting over the words. She rolls her eyes. "At least the Lestranges are attending. Perhaps I can sneak Rodolphus into the library for some fun."

I roll my eyes at that but don't say anything. Where I am composed and proper, Bella is impulsive and hot-headed. She does whatever takes her fancy and deals with the consequences when they arrive. I'm never quite sure whether to admire these qualities of hers or be worried. But I'm pulled out of my thoughts as she gives my hand a sudden tug, smirking at me.

"The Malfoys are coming too, you know," she says slowly, shooting me a wicked grin before turning back to the mirror and pretending to be engrossed in her reflection.

I give a small nod, even though I can already feel my sense tingling in preparation of when I will see Lucius again. It's been a few weeks since I saw him last and that's bothered me more than I've cared to let on. It's embarrassing really. After all, I know that the end of summer is full of events and that he had some business to attend to with his father. I also know that school is starting up again in only a few days and then I will be able to see him every day. In theory. If I wanted to, that was.

Oh, who am I even kidding, faking disinterest. I can't wait to see Lucius again tonight – it's the only thing about this party that I am looking forward to. I've been thinking about nothing but him this entire time. As I powdered my face, as I brushed smoky shadows onto my lids, as I slid a thin line of black eyeliner along the rim of my eyes, as I applied mascara expertly, as I lined my lips lightly and then swept on a pale gloss… I've been thinking of nothing but him this entire time and the fact that I will finally get to see him tonight. I know how this evening will go. He'll arrive, I'll greet him, he'll kiss my hand, we'll mingle with the dreary guests for a few minutes, and then we'll be gone. We'll slip out into the gardens, making our way to my favorite spot by the center fountain and then he'll kiss me and I'll forgive him for making me wait so long to see him again.

"Cissa? Cissa!"

Bella's voice shatters through my perfect thoughts and I narrow me eyes at her for the briefest of seconds before raising one brow in question. "What?" I ask, my lips pursed together.

"It's time to head downstairs. The guests will be arriving any minute now." She snorts, rolling her eyes and glancing at her reflection one last time. Standing up, she tosses her hair over her shoulder proudly – she has not pinned it up as I have, rather, it falls in an abundance of waves and curl. She looks gorgeous, as always.

Oh. I manage a polite smile at that, even though I really feel like letting that smile widen across my face until my cheeks are sore. Something that I would never _actually_ do, of course. "Let's go then," I say instead, rising from the chaise and offering her my arm. She rolls her eyes but makes a giggling sort of noise as she winds her arm around mine, the same way she used to when we were kids – except that then, there were three of us, not two – and we stroll out of the room. Whether it's the way that we're walking and the childhood memories that it's evoking or the fact that I will be seeing Lucius very soon, I don't know, but I suddenly have the urge to skip all the way down the stairs.

* * *

**(A/N: So this is really just the background set up for what's happening next. Should have the next chapter up soon! And I don't want to be like everyone else and beg for reviews buuut this _is_ my first time doing something like this so they would definitely be appreciated ;) Thank youuu!)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright, so I'm starting to get the hang of this site and everything and I hope that you all enjoy this next chapter. Time for some Lucius POV as well.**

**And again, disclaimer: I do not in any way own any of the characters or ideas from the Harry Potter books, that's all J. K. Rowling.**

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**Lucius Malfoy**

These parties are really the dreariest things. I can't help but think that as I let one of the house-elves take my coat and follow my parents into the large sitting room where an assortment of guests have already started mingling. So far, they all appear to be above forty.

Yeah. This is going to be a blast.

Of course, I cringe instantly at that thought, even if it was meant sarcastically. It reminds me too much of the announcement that is being made tonight – the decision that I have spent the past few weeks arguing furiously with my father over in an attempt to get him to change his mind. But Cygnus Black is a powerful man and he has a habit of getting what he wants. No matter what it costs anyone else.

Swallowing, I snatch up a glass of champagne from one of the trays that's being carried around. They're more for show than anything but I gulp the whole thing down quickly, needing something to calm down my nerves. I'm feeling incredibly jumpy – it's an odd emotion and one that doesn't sit well with me at all. I frown, leaving the empty glass on an end table and slipping away from my parents as they find their way to the side of the elder Black. I smirk, my lips twisting bitterly. It doesn't matter that Malfoy is also a powerful last name. My parents have always reminded me of the friend that always wants to be like their more popular friend, the friend that always makes sure to be at their side and lord the fact that they're friends with such a popular person over everyone else. The Blacks – especially Cygnus –are the popular person in this metaphor – only I'd substitute "powerful" for "popular" and it's no longer a metaphor but fact.

My eyes drift over the staircase unwillingly but I force myself to turn away, leaning up against the wall in the corridor, a little out of everyone's way. I still hear them laughing and chattering incessantly and I don't think I've ever found it more annoying. No, definitely not. I've certainly never had the urge to punch my hand through the wall because of them before but that's something that I'm seriously contemplating right now.

I can't wait to see her.

I groan instinctively, knowing that that's the one thought I desperately should _not_ be having. But now that I've had it, I can't help but picture her. Her soft, cascading hair – the palest shade of blond I've ever seen; her full lips and the way she presses them against mine, always having to rise on her tip-toes; the slender curve of her shoulders; the proud way she juts out her chin… My fingers curl automatically into a fist and I wonder if anyone, in their blissful state in the room on the other side of this wall, would even notice if I really did punch the wall. If anyone else even notices _me._

_She_ always notices me.

But no. I have to stop thinking of her. It's too painful… And too irresistible at the same time. I want her so badly, even though I can't. I wonder if she knows yet. If she knows why I can't love her. Why she can't love me. Does her sister know? I'd assume that much, at least. My lips have already twisted bitterly again and I stroll back into the main room, snatching another glass of champagne and finishing it off in no time.

So tonight's going to be one of _those_ nights then, I think as I narrow my eyes. Drinking enough champagne until the party actually seems exciting, until my parents don't seem so horrible… Until I can fool myself into not loving Narcissa Black. I'm hunched over now, by the same end table where I left my first glass of champagne – although I notice that the house elves have already dealt with that.

I close my eyes for a second, trying to just forget about everything instead. How I wish that I could just go back in time to before my father made that fatal announcement – before everything was crushed.

And, as if on cue almost, I hear a small cough from behind me. Automatically, despite the pain that I know seeing her will cause, I turn around, eyes opening to take her in.

"You look gorgeous," I breathe instinctively, and then regret it. No. I have to stop. I have to find someone else to talk to, anyone but her. I can't string her on. Anyone else, maybe. Not her.

Cissa has one hand on her hip an eyebrow raised. She really does look gorgeous, with her pale curls pinned up and in a beautiful gown of green – Slytherin colors, I note with the strangest sense of pride. I shouldn't feel proud. Not of her. Not anymore.

"I've been looking for you, Lucius," she informs me, her expression softening slightly as she steps closer. And before I even realize what she's doing, she's leaned up on her tip-toes to kiss my cheeks and I swallow because her lips against my skin feel so good – so _good_ – and yet they can't. They can't feel so good. I have to… I have to… _This _has to stop.

Cissa and I have to stop.

* * *

**Narcissa Black**

Perhaps it's just me, but there seems to be something a little off with Lucius tonight. I narrow my eyes, studying him for the briefest of moments as I pull back from him. Disregarding that notion, I reach for his hand, curling my fingers into his, the familiar thrill racing through me as they fit perfectly into place. I give his hand a small tug, my lips curving ever so slightly into a smile.

"Come on, let's go _outside_," I stress meaningfully, raising one brow and then actually allowing my smile to widen slightly as I turn around and we make our way down the hall. He is quiet but he follows and as we step outside and descend into the garden where we are alone, I feel myself letting down even more of my defences now that it is just him and me. With a small giggle, I dart around the other side of the fountain – the very same fountain that I visualized when I planned out how this evening would go.

Spreading my skirts around me, I sit back against the very edge of the fountain, raising both my eyebrows suggestively at him. But he doesn't sit down beside me as he usually would and I feel my eyes narrow with a mix of confusion and distrust. He's just standing there. Staring at me. The one person that I can read so well… And I don't have a clue what's going on.

Rising slowly from the fountain, I close the distance between the two of us quickly, both my hands searching for his, our fingers intertwining at his sides. He still doesn't say anything. I want to ask what's wrong but I have the strangest – and most terrifying – thought that he wouldn't tell me. Trying to ignore that, I lean in and up to him, kissing him softly on the mouth. My fingers untangle from his, sliding up his arms and around my neck. I am pouring myself into him, into this kiss, at an alarmingly fast rate and I feel every instinct screaming at me to stop. Even more of my defences crumble.

But he doesn't even kiss my back.

It is as soon as I realize this that I pull away from the kiss with a small gasp, staggering back from him with a confused, angry and embarrassed expression on my face. An expression which I dissolve quickly, letting a haughty one take his place as I work to furiously build back up the walls which I, only a moment ago, destroyed. For _him_.

"What's going on?" I ask, hating how my voice suddenly sounds dry and almost afraid – hating how my haughty expression seems to fade as I realize that my voice was anything but. I narrow my eyes at him instead. Childishly, I want to cross my arms over my chest but I don't think that will help my case and so I leave them dangling uselessly at my sides, fingers itching for… something. Something more substantial than the air, the _nothing,_ that has replaced Lucius's fine hair which they were woven into only a few seconds ago.

I continue to stare at him, searching for an explanation in his face if he won't deign to give me one in words. But he is closed off and my throat constricts as I take this in. He is closed off from _me_, even after I just let down everything for him. Fighting the mixture of hurt and fear that seems to be rising in my throat, I press my lips together tightly, my foot beginning to tap against the small stones of gravel as I wait for an explanation. Surely, I reason, he owes me at least that.

But when he finally opens his mouth, it is only to say "We should probably head back inside, Narcissa."

_Narcissa_.

Not Cissa. Not Cissy. _Narcissa_. As he turns and starts to head back to the house, not even waiting for me, I wonder why the use of my full name is so much more hurtful than any of his other behaviour this evening. More hurtful than not kissing me back, more hurtful than being so distant… I swallow. My parents call me Narcissa. People that I don't know call me Narcissa. Anyone who is not privileged, who is not a part of my innermost circle, calls me Narcissa. But I have _always_ been Cissa to Lucius.

Resisting the urge to take off my pointy shoes and throw them after his retreating form, I sink back onto the fountain ledge, still in a state of shock as I try to understand what possible turn of events could have led Lucius Malfoy to remove himself so obviously from my innermost circle. The one person who I let down the most walls of defences for… And he is walking away from me. Swallowing the hurt, I rise from the fountain and adjust my skirts around me before deciding to head inside after him. Even after all that he has done to me this evening, I still comply.

**

* * *

**

**Lucius Malfoy**

I shove my hands angrily in the pockets of the pants that I'm wearing as I walk away from her, hating myself more than I've hated myself before. I _knew_ that I have to stay away from her. I _knew_ that following her out into the gardens was a bad idea – a _horrible_ idea – and I still followed. I let her _kiss_ me, for Merlin's sake.

And then I left her there.

I can still see her in my head; I can still see the confusion on her face as she stared at me, wondering why I had not kissed her back. I left too quickly to see her reaction to when I called her _Narcissa_ but I can only imagine that too and it hurts even more. I hate myself for having given someone else so much power. For having given Narcissa Black to power to affect me so, the power to hurt me as I hurt her.

I am walking in a daze, trying to concentrate only on putting one foot in front of the other and trying to forget about the scene in the garden. Trying to forget about how beautiful she looked, her face illuminated by the thousands of small fairy lights draped everywhere. Trying to forget how wonderful it could been, just the two of us…

I close my eyes fiercely but what I'm seeing isn't something that I can just close my eyes from – it's all my head and even with my eyes firmly shut, the images remain. Opening my eyes, I stumble slightly down the hall. Champage. No. I need something stronger. And because I know that no one will notice me – because the one girl that always notices me has been left in the garden, left there by _me_ – I make my way up the stairs and into Cygnus Black's study. I know exactly what I'm looking for – I've accompanied Bellatrix on missions exactly like this one at other parties. My feet seem to be on autopilot as I make my way over the cabinet and stop. Then I turn to the shelf beside it, fingers reaching instinctively to lift up the heavy book clothed in red and reach for the small key. It fits into the cabinet lock perfectly and I grab a large bottle without even checking to see what it is. Something stronger than a few glasses of champagne, I know that.

And with the bottle clasped firmly in my hand, I sink to the floor, not even bothering to contemplate what will happen if I am found here. Removing the lid with a deft twist of my fingers, I raise it to my lips, taking a long and heavy sip, tilting the bottle up above my head. It is only when it burns its way down my throat that I recognize it. Firewhiskey. I once might have laughed at this – Cygnus Black drinks _Firewhiskery?_ – but instead I barely notice it. Even as I try to drown my sorrows and forget about her, I can't.

My thoughts are fixated on the girl who would have held the power to break my heart if only I hadn't broken hers first.

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**(A/N: Thanks to those that reviewed and in answer to a question: Andromeda is in Ravenclaw in this story merely because the first time I really got to know her was on a Marauders RP that had her sorted into Ravenclaw so I've always thought of her that way, I'm not sure if it ever actually says anything in the books anyways about which house she was? Also, I think it helps to be a defining point between her and her sisters, sort of a starting point for her drifting away and eventually leaving the Black family.**

**And on that note as well, there's some Andromeda POV coming up fairly soon and some stuff with Ted as well, for any fans of that. This isn't completely a Narcissa and Lucius story, you'll see.**

**Again, reviews would be appreciated unbelievably as this is all new for me and thanks for reading!)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright so I'm starting off with some Andromeda POV but don't worry, there's still Lucius and Narcissa in there later on too :) It kinda turned out shorter than I was anticipating so sorry about that but don't worry, the next chapter should start out pretty much exactly where this one leaves off.  
**

**And again - disclaimer - I do not own any of these wonderful characters and stuff, that's all J., lucky her :P**

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* * *

****Andromeda Black**

I close the door to my father's study gently behind me, feeling dizzy and suddenly nauseous. My head is crammed full of a million different thoughts now, none of them very good, and I try to just focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

Right foot forward, left foot forward, right foot forward, left foot forward…

And then, thank Merlin, I'm at my room. Once I've closed the door behind me, I feel myself collapsing, hidden away from me. I don't fall but I stagger over to my bed and practically throw myself onto it, burying my face into the pillow, willing myself to fall asleep or wake up so that this will have all just been a dream. It can't actually be happening. They can't actually think that I'll… But I have to. I don't have a choice. This is the very thing that I've been afraid of for so long and now here it is, shoved in my face in the very worst way it could have happened. Even if there would have been something I could do, it's not as if there's time. People will be arriving in less than an hour for the party and my father plans on making the announcement tonight. I was given a _one hour _head's up. Delightful, really.

My breath is coming faster and faster and it suddenly hitches in my throat and I can't breathe. I can feel myself starting to hyperventilate and I sit up quickly, one hand fluttering to my chest automatically. Nodding my head slowly, I try and swallow. A second or so later, I relax, even though my entire body is still shaking with the weight of what I have just been told. Oh, how I wish that I was someone brave, someone who could fight this. But I'm not. I'm weak and I've been that way ever since I was sorted into Ravenclaw – or perhaps I'm just throwing blame and it's just a part of who I am. A weak little coward.

Lower lip trembling, it's not until I feel the splash down my cheek that I realize that I'm crying. I wipe the tear away automatically, as if that will somehow stop all the tears, as if that will somehow get rid of the reason why I'm crying. But it does neither, as a few seconds later there are even more tears pouring down my cheek and I fall back onto the bed with a choked sob. I land against a fabric that is definitely not my sheets though and I sit up in surprise.

Oh right. The gown that Mother laid out for me to wear. I only notice it now and study it for a moment. It's pretty, I suppose. It has a very elegant feel to it, at least, with the tight bodice, full skirts, a hint of lace... I barely take in any of that though; my eyes have noticed the color and the color only.

It's _navy._

And while one might try and tell oneself that the color could show, perhaps, that my mother is moving a step closer towards accepting me as I am, I know that that's not at all what was going on in her passive aggressive little mind. It's a brand, to set me apart more, to make it clear that everyone knows who I am. No, it's not a brand – it's a slap in the face.

But what with everything that I have just been told, I can barely bring myself to be angry and instead I just slip out of my clothes and start to get into the dress, pulling it up and pushing my arms down the sleeves – the sleeves are long in contrast to wide, low neckline – before reaching around to button it up. Yes, the bloody thing has _buttons_, and they're nearly impossible to deal with all alone. Somehow, I manage. Making my way over to my dresser, I powder my face and apply minimal make-up. I'm really not in the mood for any of this and I just really don't have the energy for anything more. Although, I do make sure to try and offset any redness that remains in my eyes.

Sliding my plain black heels onto my feet, I glance at my hair in the mirror quickly. My brown curls are a little mussed from when I threw myself onto the bed and such so I try and pat them into place a bit more. Again, I don't really have the energy to throw them elaborately although I end up pulling some of the sections closer to the front back and securing them with a butterfly clip. There. I'm presentable, aren't I? I don't care if my parents wanted more from me for this very special night. It's not as if I ever live up to their expectations. Why start now?

* * *

The guests have arrived and everyone is mingling now. I've just been standing off to the side of room, trying not to think about the seconds ticking away as my father's announcement grows closer and closer to being made. Time has sort of stopped existing for me, though. There is only now, there's no future. He hasn't made the announcement yet and I can be content with that fact and ignore the fact that it will be made very soon. My throat constricts every single time that I allow my thoughts to drift in that direction and I'm desperately trying not to have a panic attack in front of everyone.

_Everyone._ I shiver automatically, glancing from face to face and telling myself that they will know soon. They will know what my father told me only hours ago. They will know why me life has just shattered into a billion small pieces that are all scattering away from me before I can group them together again. _He _won't know, I tell myself as a sort of consolation but it doesn't really work. Thinking of _him _right now isn't helping at all. He'll find out, after all. Even if I'm too much of a coward to tell him, he'll hear the news from someone else. Everyone will know. I shudder, hating that. Because once everyone knows, there's no going back.

* * *

**Lucius Malfoy**

I don't know how long it takes exactly before I start to feel the effects of the Firewhiskey but it doesn't seem like very long at all. My head is buzzing pleasantly but most importantly, I have succeeded in forgetting about her. Or at least, not associating any sort of hurt to her face when it comes to mind. I just picture her and think 'Hm, she's pretty,' able to ignore the fact that I've just broken her heart, crushed every wonderful thing that we had between us.

At least, I'm telling myself that I can ignore what's just happened but the ache in my chest doesn't feel any lighter – it seems that with the more I drink, the heavier it becomes. I didn't think it could get any heavier but it surprises me with every long sip I take from the dark bottle. Look at that.

I also don't know how it long it's been when I hear footsteps approaching although the bottle's almost empty now if that's any indication. Normally I might stuff the bottle under his desk, try and get to my feet and at least pretend that I haven't just been sitting here drinking the evening away but at this point, I don't see the reason why. There is none. There's no fucking reason why I should even try to act normal, why I should be putting on a façade for any of _them_.

But when the door opens slowly and a nervous head peeks into the room, I feel my luck skyrocketing down several mores leagues. It's not even one of them. It's the one person I least want to see right now because if I'm staring at her then I can't very well pretend that none of this is happening.

"What do you want?" I growl impatiently, unable to notice the differences, unable to already start comparing. The girl in front of me seems to have thrown back her hair in a quick fashion and I recall with a pang how Cissa's blond curls were perfectly pinned up. The girl in front of me is wearing a gown similar to Cissa but the sleeves are longer, leaving none of her arms exposed, and I feel another pang as I think of the shorter sleeves of Cissa's gown – how they left her thin, smooth, white arms visible. The girl in front of me is wearing a gown of _navy_, not green, and that strikes me harder than any of the other differences. It's too obvious.

"They're looking for you," she informs me in a quiet voice. Not necessarily timid, just… quiet. Resigned.

"Good for them," I spit back, glaring at her before turning my attention back to the bottle and taking another deep sip. My head is spinning slightly but I manage to glance back at her and snort. "And what gave you the idea that I'd be hiding up in your Daddy dearest's study?"

I notice that she winces slightly at the "Daddy dearest" and feel a prick of smugness. Extracting pleasure from other people's discomfort and misery had always been a talent of mine and when there is so little pleasure filling me right now, I find myself needing it even more.

"I just thought you'd probably be trying to get away from everyone. I checked a bunch of the other rooms on this floor as well," she tells me but I don't even really care at this point. Somehow, wonder of wonders, I manage to get to my feet, leaving the bottle behind, and stagger over to the door. Better to get this over with. Better for Cissa to find out so at least she'll know _why_ she hates me. Wincing, I stumble as I'm making my way out the door and I feel a cool hand on my arm tentatively. Anger flares up at me that she would even dare to touch me and before I'm quite aware of what I'm doing I've spun around quicker than I would have thought possible, shoving her back from me. She stumbles into the door with a small cry of surprise but I don't care.

"Don't touch me," I growl, hating that I suddenly feel guilty for doing that, for shoving her. I doubt that she wants this any more than I do – but there's no way that she wants it _less_ than I do. There aren't' even words to convey how much I don't want this. Glaring at her for a second, I just turn and walk away, stumbling off towards my hated future.

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**Narcissa Black**

Everything seems to be so sharply focused in my vision as I make my way around the room, exchanging pleasantries with everyone that's important and sweeping past anyone who isn't but somehow managed to be invited anyways. I haven't seen _him_ since he went upstairs and I can't help but wonder what he's doing but– No. I stop that thought in its tracks, just as I've been stopping any thought of him. I can't do this right now, I can't deal with this, I can't try and figure him out… There are too many people here and too much that is required of me for me to be able to think about Lucius Malfoy right now, no matter how much anger is writhing in my chest. It's just too much to handle, it's too much-

There is a clinking of glass at the front of the room and I swivel my head, immensely grateful for this distraction from the dangerous path my thoughts were starting to turn down. My mother is talking now, wishing my father a Happy 50th Birthday and going on to tell some little story that completely flies over my head as this has all stopped being a distraction. Because Lucius is coming down the stairs now and I can't help but stare at him, even as I want to turn a shoulder coldly. I would except that I am too surprise, trying to take in what I am seeing even though it doesn't make any sense. He is clutching the rail and staggering as if – is he _drunk? _I narrow my eyes with confusion, bewildered by this turn of events and also by the fact that he's making his way down followed by _Andromeda_. What are they doing together? As far as I know, the two of them have barely exchanged any more words than necessary since she was sorted into Ravenclaw. And even as children, I was always better friends with him than she was, I think with a small burst of pride which I quickly squash. I shouldn't be proud because Lucius Malfoy is not important anymore.

But I'm not even managing to fool myself.

The two of them are heading towards the front of the room now, heading towards where my father has begun talking, saying that he has an announcement he would like to add to all this festivities. My gaze I shifting back and forth between him and _them_ now and I find myself unable to tear my eyes away. I feel as if I'm watching a car crash about to happen and powerless to prevent it. Only I don't even know what's about to happen.

"Cissa?"

My other sister's voice registers dimly in my ears and I turn my head slightly to see Bella staring at me with an odd expression.

"Are you okay?" she asked, brow furrowed slightly and I want to laugh and tell that no, I am not okay and I have never been so not okay.

Instead I give a small, rapid nod, ignoring the fact that my expression is strained. And I turn back towards the front of the room as _they_ are standing behind my father now – although swaying would be the more accurate term for what Lucius is doing.

"…Union of families … Lucius Malfoy and my middle daughter, Andromeda … betrothed…"

The words filter through my head slowly and it takes me a second to fully comprehend what my father is saying because the words just don't make any _sense_. But he is being more than clear enough and I feel my lips parting with shock as I stagger back. For once, I'm not bothering to see if anyone is staring at me, I just swallow and try and keep myself contained when everything has just been pushed furiously into place. My parent's motives are obvious enough – trying to redeem little Andromeda by pairing her to the most respectable candidate – even if neither of them have even graduated yet. And Lucius's behaviour in the gardens has also been thrust into focus and I feel mortified.

I am furious, furious with the both of them but for once, my anger is not the emotion in control. Humiliation is guiding me as I find myself slipping out the room and running down the hall, not even making it to a bathroom. I find myself retching into one of our large potted plants, hands pressed against my stomach as I gasp for breath. I retch and retch until there is nothing left in my stomach and though I am fairly sure that I have made it far enough away that no one will have heard me, I sink to the floor, cheeks scarlet with that mix of humiliation of anger.

Only now, anger is the one in control.

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**(A/N: Also just wanted to say thankyouuu so much to those that have reviews, you have no idea how much those all made me smile, really, those reviews make my day, they really do. Thanks for reading and hope that you enjoyed this chapter, you can look forward to the rest of the night in the next chapter, I'm thinking XD)**


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